


Ligare - To Bind with Rope

by Sorryimnotthatkindofdoctor



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aftercare, Choking, Dom!Cas, Established Relationship, M/M, Masturbation, NSFW, Praise Kink, Rope Bondage, Sub!Sammy, a little fluff at the end, angelic dirty talk (is that a tag?), breath play, knife play (of a sort – angel blade; no cutting)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-29
Updated: 2016-05-29
Packaged: 2018-07-10 21:58:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7009840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sorryimnotthatkindofdoctor/pseuds/Sorryimnotthatkindofdoctor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, Sam just needs to be reminded of how wondrous a creation he is, and sometimes, he has to be bound for that to sink in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ligare - To Bind with Rope

**Author's Note:**

> Teaser:
> 
> “Do you not believe me when I tell you how beautiful you are?” Castiel asked again.
> 
> “I… I don’t believe you are lying to me, sir,” Sam hedged. He didn’t doubt Castiel; he knew the angel believed his words, but Sam couldn’t quite believe them himself.
> 
> “Samuel,” Castiel warned, the belt tightening.
> 
> “No sir,” Sam gasped in answer to the question. Cas released the belt again as a reward for his honesty, but he tsked his tongue against his teeth. 
> 
> “How can you not see it,” Cas muttered more to himself than an actual question for Sam to answer. He let his hands slowly roam over Sam’s shoulders and down across his chest, his thumbs pausing to rub over Sam’s nipples right atop the ropes. Cas dropped a line of kisses across Sam’s neck as his hands went lower, fingers following the deep V of Sam’s hips.

“Can you possibly comprehend how old I am, Samuel?” Castiel asked as he walked around where Sam sat in the chair, incredibly still. The black nylon ropes knotted across his body, holding his wrists and ankles to the arms and legs of the chair, along with several strands wrapped around his chest and ribs keeping him straight against the back of the chair, had something to do with that. The black silk blindfold over his eyes also helped. Sam was always still when Cas brought out the blindfold – it helped him to pay better attention to where he was and what he was doing.

“No sir,” Sam answered quietly. He could guess – he understood in terms of an answer, thousands of years, but he didn’t really have any comprehension of what that meant. He couldn’t grasp the concept of Cas existing for millennia. So he shook his head and said no, again. Cas ran long, slender fingers through Sam’s hair, ruffling it slightly.

“I’m old,” he said, scratching at Sam’s scalp. “I have seen stars born, burn bright, and then die, their light still shining for ages to come. I have seen canyons created by the slow drip of time. I have seen the pure light of souls coming and going from heaven.” Sam whined slightly at Cas’ touch on him, muscles bunching as he shifted slightly in the chair.

Cas immediately released his hair and reached down to grab Sam’s thick, heavy belt that he had buckled in a large, loose collar around Sam’s neck. He gathered the excess leather in his hand and pulled it to the back, tightening the loop around Sam’s neck so that the buckle pressed right over his pulse point. It wasn’t enough to make him gasp, but it was enough to make him go completely still. After a few moments, Cas released the belt, letting the weight of the buckle pull it back down into a loose coil hanging down his chest.

“I’m sorry, sir,” he said contritely. Cas pulled Sam’s head back by his hair and then bent down, placing a gentle kiss of benediction on Sam’s forehead.

“Do you know why I tell you this?” Cas asked, standing again and walking around in front of Sam.

“No sir.”

“I tell you this so that you may have some grasp of the weight of my words when I say that I have never seen anything more beautiful than you when you’re like this.” Cas watched the blush as it crawled over Sam’s body, turning his skin a warm pink except for a pale half-inch on either side of anywhere one of the ropes crossed his skin, pulling it tight. “You don’t believe me?”

Sam drew his bottom lip between his teeth, hesitating. Castiel demanded honesty from him whenever they played like this, never wanting Sam to lie about his mental or physical well-being in these scenarios. And yet he knew the angel would not approve of his honest answer this time, and Sam so wanted to be good and make Castiel happy. He felt the belt slowly being drawn up against his neck once more and realized Cas had moved behind him again.

“You will not lie to me, Samuel,” Cas said quietly into his ear, his voice sharp and grabbing at his attention, a combination of barbed wire and broken glass. Sam nodded as much as he could, fingers clenched around the arm of the chair.

“Do you not believe me when I tell you how beautiful you are?” Castiel asked again.

“I… I don’t believe you are lying to me, sir,” Sam hedged. He didn’t doubt Castiel; he knew the angel believed his words, but Sam couldn’t quite believe them himself.

“Samuel,” Castiel warned, the belt tightening.

“No sir,” Sam gasped in answer to the question. Cas released the belt again as a reward for his honesty, but he tsked his tongue against his teeth.

“How can you not see it,” Cas muttered more to himself than an actual question for Sam to answer. He let his hands slowly roam over Sam’s shoulders and down across his chest, his thumbs pausing to rub over Sam’s nipples right atop the ropes. Cas dropped a line of kisses across Sam’s neck as his hands went lower, fingers following the deep V of Sam’s hips.

Castiel moved away, leaving Sam alone for several moments. Sam listened to what sounded like furniture moving, but he wasn’t sure. He could feel the small flutters of uncertainty building in his stomach at being abandoned, even though he knew Cas would never do any such thing. Sam took several deep breaths, trying to calm himself. He could feel the ropes around his chest give just enough so that he could breathe easily, but still offer him that wonderful feeling of being restrained.

He didn’t quite understand it. As often as he found himself tied up, held down, or otherwise immobilized by demons and other various monsters, he was always shocked by the fact that he loved being tied up by his lover. It wasn’t even like Castiel needed the rope. He could easily overpower Sam or hold him still against the wall with a flick of his wrist. It was something about the ropes – the feel of the fibers leaving ridges in his skin, of being just on the verge of too tight, holding him steady and still. The knowledge that every knot was carefully and meticulously tied by Castiel’s deft fingers to provide that feeling. It calmed him while exciting him all at the same time.

Castiel called it religion – literally, from the Latin ligare, meaning to bind with ropes. Religion was re ligare – to bind again. He said it was Sam’s way of being grounded, finding faith in himself and in Castiel. It was how he sought safety and forgiveness, offered penance and received benediction.

Sam jumped as he felt a light dragging touch across the top of his thigh. It felt like the tip of a knife, but there wasn’t a thin edge. He tried to keep his breathing steady as the touch continued, dragging slowly up from his knee to the crease of his hip.

“Please, sir,” he whispered. The touch left his thigh and then he felt it glancing against his temple. Something warm and smooth slid under the edge of his blindfold.

“Close your eyes, Samuel,” Castiel ordered. Sam obeyed without hesitation. The blindfold was lifted away. “Open them slowly,” the angel said with a kiss to Sam’s ear. The young hunter again obeyed, eyes opening to mere slits at first. Even the dim light of the bedside lamp was blinding for a moment, but soon he could see clearly.

Directly in front of him was a long, standing mirror. Sam squirmed slightly at the sight of himself, bound to the chair, skin pink and white, crisscrossed so beautifully with knots and ropes. Castiel stood behind him in his dress pants and crisp white shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The tie was still there, but loosened and Sam smiled when he met those deep blue eyes in the mirror.

Then he noticed *it*. The barest glint of silver in Castiel’s hand – his angel blade. Sam shuddered as he looked down and saw the faintest red trace of a line on his thigh where the tip of that blade had just so recently been.

“Look at yourself, Samuel,” Castiel said as he pulled on the belt, snugging it up around Sam’s throat again so that his head was forced up and forward. His voice was barely above a whisper, but it held the command of someone who had led legions. Sam obeyed instantly, his eyes traveling over his own reflection. There was a fine sheen of sweat across his skin, and his hair was rumpled from the blindfold. The lines of his muscles were well-defined, especially near the tight bindings on his arms and chest. His cock was red, thick, and heavy with unspilled desire. Cas had been slowly building him up for over an hour now and it showed in the shiny beads of precum that gathered at the slit.

“Look at how beautiful you are,” Castiel whispered from behind him. The smooth, rounded surface of his angel blade rolled over the backs of his shoulders. He pulled it around and used the tip to trace the contours of his jaw line and then down to the obvious, defined outline of his pecs down the center of his chest until he encountered the ropes.

“You have the musculature that inspired Michelangelo,” the angel said, pulling the blade over to follow the lines of his biceps, tapping the tip along each knot he’d tied there. “That motivated stories of Adonis,” he added. The blade moved down to lightly trace over the delicate webbing between his fingers.

Sam’s breaths were short and shallow now, the belt digging just right into his neck to prevent easy, adequate airflow. His face was growing red and his fingers dug into the arm of the chair as he fought to keep from bucking against the pressure. He watched as the blade moved to trace the outline of his abs.

“You are a specimen,” Castiel said as he leaned over to reach further down Sam’s body, “of utter perfection.” He released the pressure of the belt slightly, listening to every molecule of air that went past Sam’s lips, following it with his angelic senses as they disappeared into his lungs. As he watched the young man breathe easier, his face slowly calming, Cas mentally counted out the individual oxygen atoms that separated out in the alveoli and passed into the capillaries. If he’d so desired, he could have followed each one throughout the body, but he pulled back, refocusing his senses on Sam’s entire being.

“If da Vinci had been able to see you,” Cas said as he rolled the angel blade along the inner edge of Sam’s right thigh, “he would have truly grasped the meaning of proportion without help from Vitruvius.” Sam gasped as Cas tightened the belt again, slowly. He didn’t go as tight as before, but it was enough for the thick leather to bite into his neck again. Sam watched as Cas knelt beside him, the better to reach with his blade.

The first time the angel had pulled out the instrument during one of their sessions, Sam had been surprised to find that it wasn’t cold. The shine of it, the metallic look – he’d braced for cold when Cas had rolled it over his shoulders. But it wasn’t. The surface was unlike any metal he knew – it seemed to conduct the heat of its carrier.

That same warm, smooth surface rolled across his thigh now and glanced over the tightly drawn skin of his balls, making him jump slightly. Cas tightened the belt even further until Sam whispered out a “sorry, sir,” and then he could breathe again.

“This,” the angel said casually, rolling the blade up and down the underside of Sam’s cock. “This is something no artist or sculptor could ever capture.” Sam bit his lip to keep from straining into the touch. He was desperate to cum.

“Please, sir,” he managed to whisper out. A small bead of precum was jolted out of the head of his cock as Cas bit at the inside of his elbow, a small purple bruise forming between the knots there. Cas ran the blade up and caught the shining pearl on the smooth surface. Sam watched as he pulled it away, leaving a long, shimmering line that connected the angel blade to his cock for a brief moment before it broke, the line landing wetly on his thigh.

“Clean it off,” Castiel ordered, holding the blade just slightly away from Sam’s lips. The younger man had to strain to lean forward, the belt pinching at his throat as he did so, to swipe his tongue across the blade’s smooth warmth. He licked it off, but simply held it, salty and warm, on his tongue.

“You may swallow, Samuel.” Castiel leaned up to kiss his temple as a reward for him waiting on permission. Sam swallowed the small taste of himself, humming. Cas stood and brought the blade around behind Sam’s head. He put it into the coil of the belt and used it as one would a stick in a tourniquet, twisting the leather until it was pulled tight against Sam’s throat.

“Can you breathe, Samuel?” he asked. Sam nodded, but his face was rapidly turning red. Cas again focused on the air – it was adequate to keep him alive, but the breaths he took were short and shallow. He loosened the belt just slightly. “Show me the sign to release you,” Cas said, using his free hand to comb through Sam’s hair. The young hunter closed his eyes, almost overwhelmed by all the sensations. He extended three fingers with his left hand. Cas patted Sam’s head.

“You’re such a good boy for me, Samuel,” Castiel praised. “Now, I want you to watch yourself in the mirror.” Sam blinked once to acknowledge he’d heard. He could probably speak if need be, but Sam enjoyed the silence, the last bit of worry and decision making being stolen from him along with his air and his voice.

Sam’s eyes swung to the mirror as Cas knelt beside him again, his free hand reaching under the arm of the chair to slowly caress Sam’s aching cock. He ran the tips of his seemingly delicate fingers along the top, over the flared, leaking head, and then let the vein lead him down the underside. He palmed Sam’s balls, squeezing slightly. Cas twisted the blade in the belt slightly when Sam jumped, but released it just as easily.

Castiel brought his hand out and licked a wide stripe up the center of his palm before sliding back through the small juncture of the arm of the chair and Sam’s hip. He wrapped Sam in his firm, wet grip, and began stroking up and down. Sam watched, breathing shakily in through his nose, as Castiel jerked him off. On every third upstroke, the angel would swirl his thumb. Even though there was an obvious pattern, Sam was still taken aback by the pleasure that soared through him every time that he did.

The angel was almost methodical in how he pursued Sam to his release. But Sam didn’t mind. There was no less passion in Castiel’s ministrations for all that they were a carefully planned assault on every nerve in Sam’s being. He watched the muscles of Cas’ forearm bunch and twist as he swiveled his wrist and swiped his thumb. Sam fought hard not to thrust up, not wanting the pleasure to stop, but not sure how much longer he could hold out.

“P-p-pl-plea…s…sssssir,” he managed to gasp after several minutes of this delicious torture. Castiel’s grip slid down to the base and squeezed. Sam groaned, both in gratitude and dismay.

“Do you need to cum, Samuel?” Castiel asked. Sam tried to nod, his eyes watering with how badly he needed it. Castiel stood and kissed him, stealing what little breath Sam had in his lungs. “Very well. You may fuck my fist, Samuel, but you do not cum until I say. Understood?” Sam blinked frantically, extending his thumb for good measure in their “I’m good,” signal.

Castiel spit into his palm and knelt back down, once again reaching for Sam’s erection. He started his rhythm again, but this time, Sam’s hips rose and fell in a counter, the young man chasing that feeling of Castiel’s firm grip and warm, wet palm. Sam kept his eyes open the entire time, watching the determination and focus on Castiel’s face as much as he watched the straining of his own body.

As he got closer and closer, the angel twisted the blade, drawing the belt tighter around his neck. Sam was starting to see spots at the edges of his vision and was getting closer and closer to having to flash the “release” signal when Cas stood up and whispered in his ear.

“Cum, now,” Castiel ordered. He released all the tension on the belt and Sam drew in a deep, gasping lungful of air just as Castiel pressed his thumb against Sam’s slit and squeezed with the rest of his fingers.

Sam came with a roar, cum shooting out past Castiel’s grip to splatter over Sam’s thighs, dotting the black nylon of the ropes with flecks of white. Cas stroked him through the immediacy of his release and kept stroking until he was merely shaking all over. As always, Castiel removed his hand just before the over-stimulation became too much. The angel blade was laid on the floor near the legs of the chair and Castiel lifted the loop of the belt off over Sam’s head to set it down as well.

“Beautiful,” Castiel muttered, pressing his lips to Sam’s sweaty brow. He brushed the damp hair away from the younger man’s forehead and then brought his other hand up, covered in Sam’s cum. Sam watched through glazed, half-open eyes, as Castiel licked his fingers clean, sucking the salty taste of the hunter into his lips.

“Just breathe,” the angel said softly when he was finished. “In through your nose for a count of four and then out your mouth for a count of 5.” He watched Sam do the exercise for a few moments before he walked out of view. When he came back, he had a wet cloth, a bottle of liniment, and several dry towels.

Sam shook as Cas began to wipe him down with the wet cloth, removing the signs of his orgasm with the same methodical precision as the way he’d pushed Sam to release in the first place. When that was done, Castiel began to untie the knots and remove the ropes. He started, as always, with the ones at Sam’s feet. Cas could have easily snapped his fingers and made the ropes fall away, but he’d discovered that the younger man needed the slow release. And it worked even better if he worked from the bottom up, leaving the ropes around his chest and ribs for last so that the feeling of safety and restraint lasted as long as possible.

So Castiel took his time, because as he so often told Sam when the younger man was feeling apologetic for the needs he had to have met, Sam Winchester was worth his time. He told him again, now, praising Sam and telling him how beautiful and wonderful and special he was with every knot he untied. And with every knot, as soon as the flesh was revealed underneath, Castiel would kiss it gently, rub it with a dry towel, and then massage as much liniment as was required into the abused flesh.

Sam sat in the chair, taking deep breaths as ordered, feeling the barest pull of the ropes as they stretched just enough to let him breathe. The hunter looked at himself in the mirror, letting himself see the beauty his angel claimed existed, even if for a few brief moments. His skin was mottled pink and white, with small purple marks and red lines from Castiel’s teeth or the indentation of the angel blade. His neck had a wide band of blue and purple bruises from the belt. He saw the small pattern on his skin from the ropes, with a light bruise under each knot that Castiel untied, kissed, and took care of. And for each knot, Sam thanked him, his voice raspy and rough.

Sam was almost asleep by the time Castiel made it to his arms, but his lips continued to move. Every time Castiel untied a knot, kissed it, patted the skin dry and massaged the soothing smell of eucalyptus and menthol into the bruises he revealed, Sam whispered a small, if almost silent, “thank you, sir.”

END


End file.
